To Placate a Weasley II
by NefariaBlack
Summary: Ron and Ginny find out about Delphini in the worst possible manner: an article in The Prophet, courtesy of Rita Skeeter. Harry and Hermione deal with the aftermath. Side piece to Birds become Dragons.


**Author's Notes: Last side piece of the day, I promise. If you are reading Birds become Dragons, this parallels the events on chapter 21 and 22. Just like part I, it's been kicked around for months and I finally got it to come together.**

 **If you are not reading Birds become Dragons, know that this concerns an AU where the Malfoys are raising Delphini and give it a try as a one-shot. Or go read it first *wishful thinking***

 **Anyway, enjoy and drop me a review at the end, will you?**

* * *

 **To Placate a Weasley II**

Hermione can feel a tremendous headache forming just behind her forehead. She presses two fingers to the corners of her eyes as she takes a deep breath. This is going to get much worse before it gets better.

Her husband got the news in the worst way possible, courtesy of _The Daily Prophet_ and Rita Skeeter. He has just learnt of the Lestrange girl the Malfoys have been raising and he is not taking it well. And that is a euphemism.

She had considered breaking this version of the truth to him before, that day at Hogwarts. But he had been so absolutely indignant at being left confounded, asleep and locked in a room that she couldn't. She had also considered it several times since that day, but she could never do it before. She regrets it now. Deeply.

"Blimey, Hermione! The Mad Witch's daughter being raised by the Malfoys!? And you knew? Why, for sweet Merlin's beard, did you not tell me?"

He keeps pacing back and forth and it's driving her positively mad. She points her wand at the door and casts a muffling spell, so that little Rose won't be awakened by her Father's ranting. Then she kicks her feet up on a cushioned stool, drawing circles with her fingertips on her expanding belly.

Ron huffs at that sight. Apparently, despite all his best wishes of being, and remaining, incredibly mad at his wife, he has succumbed. For a little while that is. He rakes his fingers through his disheveled red hair and pulls up a chair.

"Sorry, 'Mione. I'm being a bit of a bastard here. I don't mean to exhaust you. But why did you keep this from me? It's not like we don't trust each other!" He motions towards her middle with an "obviously" look in his face.

"I'm sorry Ron, but you were dealing with so much that day I just couldn't put another burden on your shoulders." She raises her caramel eyes to his, and finds the pain that still lives there. "And when we got back to Hogwarts, I told Harry I would talk to you later, but there was never a right moment. It's not like I could just bring up the matter casually during dinner-"

"Wait! Harry knew? This wasn't just you and Malfoy? Oh, I'll kill the bloody bastard!" He stands and disapparates on the spot.

Bound for the Potter household, she is sure. _I must have confounded him pretty hard if he doesn't remember Harry being in the room…_ _Well, let_ _him_ _deal with Ron for a while._ Then she remembers poor Harry is probably dealing with a furious Weasley of his own. A furious pregnant Weasley wife. She sighs, contemplates not caring for a second, and decides Harry doesn't deserve that. It was _her_ decision not to tell Ron. Or to do it later every time she considered the matter.

She beckons the house-elf they keep. A very much _free_ house-elf that she pays properly. _Not that he ever uses the money..._ Ron mocks her endlessly about it.

She asks him to watch Rose and to make sure she eats her vegetables. Hoisting her nearly five months pregnant-self off the sofa she decides she is far to queasy to apparate _._

 _Floo powder it is then. Let's see how Ginny took it._

X

Badly. Ginny took it badly. That's all Harry tells her when she asks. They are alone in the kitchen, taking shelter from the Weasley storm still taking place in the living room. Hermione had offered to make some tea and Harry promptly took the cue so that he too could have a break.

The noisiest part is over. The redheads have now moved on to brewing resentment. Out right sulking actually. They can hear them from the kitchen, but not make out the words. The loud part may be over, but they need to put together a plan that will see both of them leaving this house alive and still married to the gingers next door.

"Are we telling them the rest today?" Hermione almost flinches at the thought.

Harry is staring at her like she spawned a third head off an elbow. So no, he does not intend to make matters worse by telling their better-halves that the girl is not actually a Lestrange. By the look of his face in this very moment, she guesses he would much rather go fight Voldemort again.

The thing is: he won't say a word. Absolutely nothing is coming out of his agape mouth. And right now, Hermione feels like behaving like a furious pregnant Granger, because Ron is being his usual ranting self, Ginny is about to take the violent course of action, and _Harry freaking Potter_ is, once more, waiting for her to provide him with the answers for his problems.

"Look here, Harry," she almost called him Potter, "we made our decision about Delphini years ago. It's not about to change, but he need to figure a way out. _Before_ the rest of the Weasley clan finds out that we were behind this all thing. Now, if your plan is to just sit around while I put together a proper one-"

"What? No! Of course not, Hermione. I just need to get my bearings here. I was thinking we should write a statement for the _Prophet_ , clearing up things. And we need to call on the Malfoys, I can send an owl now and we'll meet them later. Maybe we could just bring them," he nods his head towards the living room, "into that part of our plan. Have them sort this out with us. They don't have to like it, they just have to handle it."

The truth is she is surprised with his plan. Happily so, since it does not involve turning himself into a martyr by jumping in front of Delphini and the Malfoys before a horde of angry wizards, like she feared he might.

"What about the rest? We need to contact the Ministry and stop them from doing something stupid like arresting them all. You need to contact the Aurors that were with you on that day at the Manor and make sure we are all on the same page."

Harry is not surprised at all. Hermione, who was pretty much on the verge of biting his head off just seconds ago, he is sure of it, is back to her normal self. Organizing, planning, keep track of everything.

The kettle high-pitched screaming remembers them of their excuse to leave the room. With a tray of tea and biscuits, they make it back to the living room, where they find two fuming gingers.

"You better have one heck of an explanation..." Those are the first words Ginny utters, her eyes locked on Harry's. Hermione is on the verge of chuckling, and only the thought of the sheer fury her actions could spark keeps her from it.

Both Harry and Hermione take deep breaths before taking two teacups in hand each. They move towards their spouses, carefully, with measured steps, offering hot tea as one would offer an olive tree branch. Ginny takes longer to accept her cup, but eventually takes a sip, swearing at the burn in her tongue and looking at Harry in a way that leaves no doubts about whose fault it is. Then she settles the cup on the top of her pronounced belly, expecting answers. Ron has taken a seat for the first time since he arrived at the Potter's house, and now looks at Hermione, expecting his own share of answers.

Harry takes the plunge, careful to sit just out of Ginny's reach, and begins the tale of what happened at the Malfoys on the day of the Battle and the one that followed. It's not the whole truth, and that fact is heavy on both his and Hermione's chests, but the thoroughly edited version is all they can tell right now. Once he is done, the siblings take turns asking, as they take turns answering.

When they move on to planning their course of action, the only thing everyone seems to agree on is blasting Rita Skeeter into a week-long nap should she come sniffing around. Neither Ginny nor Ron like the idea of their spouses taking the blame publicly, but they concede in the end. They talk the afternoon away.

As the sun starts its descend and dinner time approaches, Ron goes back to bring Rose for a playdate and a meal with her cousins. There is no peace treaty signed, but common ground has been found. The noise of three children playing outside helps lighten the mood and reinforces Harry's main point of defense. Delphini is just a child, just a girl that plays just as loudly in a garden of her own.

Dinner is as uneventful as a meal with three small children can be. Once they are dismissed for some more play time, serious matters return to the conversation. Throughout the whole evening, Hermione's caramel gaze crosses with Harry's green one several times, always asking, wondering. _Should we tell them now?_ They obtain the same answer every time. _After. Later._

Heavy as her chest is, she is relieved that, this time around, it's his decision. So they leave it be.


End file.
